


Patton and the Lonely Ghost

by princelogical



Series: Sanders Sides Misc. Work [18]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, ghost au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:57:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princelogical/pseuds/princelogical
Summary: “I’m Virgil Foster.”“And I’m Patton… Why are you here?”“I died here.”





	Patton and the Lonely Ghost

After Patton graduated college, his mother made a big stink of things and insisted Patton find a place of his own. Patton was terrified of such an idea, for he hadn’t ever been the most organized or responsible child and as an adult, it did not get better. Arguably, it had gotten worse, according to his best friend Logan. However, to please his mother and to avoid any and all conflict, he rented a small apartment building in Florida with his cat, Siva.

It was a convenient little place, resting no more than ten miles away from his workplace. Though it was still quite simple and Patton hadn’t done much to make it his own, it still was comfortable and nice. It was a one-bedroom place, with a little living room, and a kitchen. Though Patton hated to admit it, he was glad his mother had convinced him to get a place of his own.

“It’s nice,” he said to Logan on the phone. “I’ve got the cutest couches. You’ll have to come over to check it out sometime!”

Logan chuckled. “I look forward to that.”

Unfortunately, things got busy at work and Patton found himself unable to find time to invite his friend over.

After a month of living there, Patton began to create himself a routine. he’d wake up at about nine in the morning and fetch the mail. he’d sit in his pyjamas with a glass of milk and sift through the piles of junk mail. Then he’d shower, brush his teeth, and go to work.

One day in late September, a month and a half of living in his apartment, he received one piece of mail with his exact address but addressed to a “Virgil Foster.” he resolved to send the mail back to the sender and set it on his coffee table to deal with later. However, upon returning home, the mail was gone. Patton sighed and dismissed it as his just losing his mail again, as it was something of a common occurrence.

The very next day he received another piece of mail addressed to the same person, he set it aside to return it, and it was gone by the time he arrived home from work. It began to grow frustrating; he’d pin it up on his refrigerator and it would still vanish. Patton began to wonder if, perhaps, his cat was conspiring against him and hiding his mail somewhere in the little apartment. Just to be sure, silly as it was, Patton checked every place his cat liked to go to make sure.

“You’re not taking the mail, are ya, buddy?” he asked his cat in exasperation as he swiped his sweaty hair out of his face.

His cat just licked his paw in response with a quiet purr.

Later in the week, he finally got the chance to call Logan where he filled him in about the mail.

“It just keeps vanishing!”

“I am certain you are merely misplacing it,” Logan said with a sigh.

“But how? I remember exactly where I placed it and it just vanishes.”

There was quiet on the other end until Logan’s voice filled his ear once again. “Are you well, Patton?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, kiddo. I guess this is just stressing me out.”

“Pin it to your refrigerator next time, all right? You are sure to not lose it then.”

“Okay.”

“And please call me more often. Or text. I do find myself… missing you.”

Guilt settled into Patton’s stomach. “Will do.”

Two weeks into the mail ordeal, Patton settled into bed after a particularly exhausting day. He found himself drifting off to sleep much earlier than usual, but was quickly awoken by the sound of papers shuffling from his kitchen. Patton’s body tensed from his bed and he carefully pushed himself up. The noise grew in rapidness and became louder, no longer possible to be a trick of the night.

He tumbled out of bed and threw a sweatshirt on and glanced around for a weapon of some sort to defend himself with. There wasn’t anything particularly threatening on his nightstand or on the floor. Patton grabbed one of his thick Sherlock Holmes volumes that he had borrowed from Logan before he moved and had been reading over the week; perhaps it would be suitable to… throw at someone, should it truly be an intruder.

Patton made his way to the door and slowly pulled it open. The shuffling grew even faster and desperate. Patton found himself running through the door and blindly towards the source of the noise- the kitchen. However, upon reaching it, he found his mail scattered on the floor and his cat desperately pawing at a vent on the floor.

“Oh, you silly goose,” Patton muttered and picked up the animal, kicking the mail aside. He promised himself to take care of it in the morning as he marched himself and the cat back to bed.

The next night, a similar and equally exasperating event occurred. Patton heard noises from his kitchen, he came running and found the mail scattered and his cat pawing at the vent. Patton dragged his cat back to bed with him.

When it happened again for the third night, Patton groaned loudly and lectured the cat on manners and the importance of sleep until he remembered it was an animal who didn’t really have the ability to understand why it was impolite to do such things.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight,” he said with a deep sigh.

Patton buried himself under the covers for a fourth night, his cat sleeping soundly beside him. It was supposed to be a peaceful night until he heard, as usual, the shuffling. Patton felt his heart freeze when he saw his cat beside him, staring at the door and meowing softly.

Patton stood up and crept to the door, slowly opening it as quietly as he could. He rushed to the kitchen only to find it empty and his mail, as usual, scattered on the floor. His cat trailed behind him and stopped at the vent, sat on his butt, and began pawing at it.

“Something’s not right,” Patton whispered as he picked up his cat and then frowned upon the realization he was beginning to talk to his cat more than he did with most humans.

Patton picked up the mail and tossed it onto his counter and determined to stay up the next night to catch whatever was messing up his mail in the act. He went back to sleep with his cat in tow and dreamt uneasily.

In the dream, Patton was sitting at his kitchen counter beside a man. The man was young and looked exhausted and sad while reading a letter, wiping tears from his eyes. Then another man, this one masked, burst into the room, and snatched the letter from the sad man’s hands and flung it to the floor of the kitchen. Patton tried to move, tried to help, but the masked man slammed the other guy onto the ground and with all the force in the world, brought his foot down on the man’s face. Patton remained frozen the entire time, unable to speak, scream, or move the entire time.

Patton woke up screaming, sobbing from the horrifying images of the dream. Unlike most dreams, it remained sharp into his mind throughout the day and didn’t fade into a distant memory. It haunted him like an unwanted ghost, choking at his mind. Patton could hardly concentrate throughout his workday. He arrived back home, exhausted and feeling as if running on auto-pilot.

He went into his room, shutting the door, and resolving to just forget about trying to stay up. It felt like such a pointless and trivial thing to worry about. Patton laid down, but upon doing so, found his cat was not with him. He really could use the animal’s comfort, so he crept out of bed and quietly made his way out of his room.

There was nothing in the world that could have prepared him for what he saw; standing in his kitchen, holding his mail, was a man, the exact man from his dream. He looked up, eyes wide. His skin looked faded, slightly hazy and misty. His eyes were a bright hazel with blackness smudged underneath but also looked misty and red as if he’d been crying. His dark and thick hair was a mess around his head. He didn’t look quite physical or real; he looked like a mirage, something you’d see after being in the sun for far too long.

Patton felt dizzy and sick; he feared suddenly for his life and his heart wedged its way into his throat. he slowly back away, gripping the ends of his shirt tightly. Oh God, he was going to die, he was going to die. The dream had been a messed up prophecy or something. Oh,  _God_ -

“Please, I’m so sorry, I’m not going to hurt you,” the man said, putting his hands up. His body moved like a bad VCR glitch. He seemed to be full of static, full of mist and haze. His voice sounded faint, timid, and slightly distorted.

“Who… who are you?” he choked out. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “I… I sent you that dream.”

“You… what?”

The guy lowered his hands and sighed but Patton noticed his chest didn’t move with the breaths coming from his mouth. “I’m Virgil Foster.”

“And I’m Patton… Why are you here?”

“I died here.”

“You… you’re dead?”

Virgil nodded. “Sadly, yeah.”

“So… you’re a… ghost.”

“I have no idea,” Virgil said with a small laugh. Patton noticed he had tears in his eyes again, as he did in his dream. “I just know I’m dead and nobody can see me. Except you, I guess.”

“You said you sent me my dream?” Patton asked quietly, lowering himself onto one of the seats, suddenly feeling even fainter.

“I did, kind of, yeah. I’m so sorry-”

“Stop saying sorry, kiddo,” Patton chided softly, unable to help feeling a little… sorry for the guy.

“Sorry.”

Patton couldn’t help the small and fond smile creeping on his lips. “How’d you ‘send’ me a dream?”

“I just… it was selfish of me. I just wanted someone to understand, see I lived here. Everyone shuts up about it nowadays.”

“Why do you keep going through my mail?” Patton asked, lowering his chin into his hands.

“I’m looking for something.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“A letter.”

Patton frowned, pieces clicking into place. “The one from my dream- the one you were reading before you died.”

Virgil flinched at the word “died,” but nodded. “It was from my friend, Roman. I never got to finish it.”

With each word, Virgil was looking less and less real. His body looked more transparent and shifty. Even his voice was growing quieter.

“I can… help you find it. It’s probably not gonna be in the current mail though, kiddo. I don’t think your friend would send mail to a dead guy.”

“Where do you think it is then?” Virgil asked and Patton had to lean in to hear him better; his voice was so quiet, like a radio channel that wasn’t coming in and turned on a low volume.

“Somewhere around here maybe. The guy who killed you,” again, Virgil flinched, “snatched it up but threw it down…”

Patton knew he should probably have been a little more bothered by a ghost’s presence in his kitchen but it was strangely comforting to have company- even the company of a ghost.

“We can look around then,” Virgil said. Patton nodded.

The two began looking all over the floor, in the cabinets, in drawers, and under the few rugs around the apartment. Patton’s cat even seemed to join in the hunt; he stuck his nose on the ground and seemed to sniff, not unlike a hunting dog tracking down a trail.

Eventually, the two were ready to give up. Sunlight was coming through the windows. Patton found himself and Virgil curled up on his couch, Virgil’s form flickering every so often.

“My mom had died, so I was very upset,” Virgil rambled on. “I’d locked myself away in this stupid apartment- something about it was so lonely and isolated, you know? My friend had written me a letter and it was seriously, like, the first contact with anyone I’d had in weeks. And I was just really lonely…” Virgil trailed off, his form flickering to the point Patton reached out, afraid it’d flicker away.

“Something about this place is so lonely, ya know?” he asked, form finally solidifying again.

“I know…” Patton trailed off. When was the last time he’d called his mom? Or spoken to Logan? Let alone, gone  _out_?

“Are you lonely, Patton?”

“Sometimes,” he confessed with a small choked giggle. “Sometimes I feel like a hermit. Only my cat for company.”

“Perks of starting to live completely on your own. I never thought it’d be so hard. I never wanted a wife like my mom wanted. But I thought I’d still get along with friends… But they faded. Like ghosts.” Tears were tracing Virgil’s cheeks as his form flickered once more.  

“We’ll find your letter, Virgil,” Patton said, gripping his hand; it was cold. Like a morning fog. his throat constricted painfully. “That’s what helps ghosts move on in the movies, right? They move on by completely whatever unfinished business they have here. And they move on… You’ll see your mom.”

Virgil smiled timidly. “I hope so.”

They were quiet until Patton heard scratching coming from the kitchen and he rolled his eyes. “That stupid cat. It’s like he’s looking for something in that vent-” Patton’s eyes widened and he sprinted into the kitchen and knelt down to where his cat was scratching once more at the vents.

“What’s going on?” Virgil asked, coming up behind him. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Patton stood, yanking open a drawer and pulling out a screwdriver. “I think he sees something in the vents.” he knelt back down and began unscrewing the screws which kept the vent into the ground. “When I moved in, they told me the ventilation in the kitchen was cut off because it didn’t work right. I got a good discount for that…”

He pulled the cover off and looked down into the dark hole, dust coating each side.

“Be careful,” Virgil said as Patton reached down. He smiled as his fingers brushed one of the corners. He felt a very thin lump against the dust. He made a fist and heard the tell-tale sound of paper crumbling and he lifted it front the vent; a dust-covered letter.

Virgil’s eyes lit up. “That’s- I think that’s it, Patton!”

Patton grinned and handed it out to him. Virgil snatched it, immediately apologizing for his rudeness, but Patton insisted it was okay. Virgil’s form was more solid than ever as he unfolded the old, dusty, and faded letter. His eyes scanned it and filled with tears.

“This is it.”

“Finish it then,” Patton said.

He did; his eyes remained bright and wide the entire time until he lowered it and smiled, more genuine than Patton has seen him smile the entire night. “Thanks. Thank you, so much.”

“It was nothing,” he said. He was still smiling and he looked as if he were glowing at that point. Patton felt exhausted, happy, and jittery all at once.

His felt heavy; his body felt tired and ready to fall on the floor. The floor wasn’t too bad to sleep on, was it?

“Patton?” Virgil asked, suddenly looking concerned. “Patton!”

Darkness.

Patton’s dreams were blurry, ones of light and laughter. He awoke slowly, feeling heavy. He blinked; he was on the couch, covered with a blanket from his bed. The room was quiet and as Patton sat up, he noticed his coffee table had a little blue sticky note on it.

_Patton,_

_I think I’m “moving on” or whatever you were talking about seeing in those movies. Someone’s here with me and told me humans can’t handle seeing that process. I’m gonna see my mom again! I’m scared. But I’m happy. I don’t feel so sad or lonely anymore. Thank you for finding that letter for me. I think the vents in the kitchen might work again. At least, the person with me said so._

_Call your parents or your friends. Don’t isolate yourself. That’s a sad life to live. I would know._

_Nice meeting you,_

_Virgil._

Patton blinked away tears and drew in a long sigh. He should call Logan; he had a lot to tell him, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a project for Creative Writing class that I built off of. It’s not my normal style because the class requires a more formal tone but hopefully this still manages to convey emotions decently. Feedback is much appreciated.


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